


In Love With Your Kiss

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Kissing, Kissing Games, M/M, Masturbation, Mystery Character(s), Obsession, Party, Requited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted July 2011.</p><p>In which John gets kissed in the dark by a passionate mystery <em>man</em>, and gains a sudden new obsession with making it happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Love With Your Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Unprompted. Originally posted on the kink meme, [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/8284.html?thread=12597596#t12597596).
> 
> (Today the A stands for Anguish)
> 
>  

If there was one thing college was good for, it was drunken parties. Frat Row was a street just outside of campus, lined with house after house that had, over the years, been bought up and renovated into Fraternities and Sororities. Some of them were pretty fancy. The one John was currently in, for example, had a huge, open front hall, the centerpiece of which was a wide staircase leading up to symmetrical balconies on each side. Doors to bedrooms lined those balconies, most of which were closed for the privacy of couples making out. Hanging from the ceiling was a large chandelier, its glittering pieces trying their best to lend some class to the scene of boozed bimbos below.

John did not belong in this building, nor to any fraternity, in fact. Neither did any of his friends. But Dave was constantly being invited to these parties, and it had become accepted as fact that if you wanted the coolness that was Dave, you had to put up with the derpness that was his entourage. Thus it was that John got to spend his weekends surrounded by sweaty, incoherent upperclassmen, along with Jade and Rose.

Music was pumping across the room, the bass throbbing through his body so loudly he could almost feel his heart stuttering as it struggled to maintain its proper rhythm. Holding his drink above his head in an attempt to keep it safe from all the flailing limbs as he navigated across the floor, John finally made it to the fancy staircase and climbed up a few steps, peering out over the crowd. He actually had room to breath here, as most of the party-goers were too drunk to maintain enough balance to loiter on the stairs. Leaning back against the railing, he sipped his beer and made a face. Gog, that stuff was nasty.

Looking around the room, he spotted Rose against a wall, chatting up another lit-major she had really taken a liking to, an elegant woman named Kanaya. In the middle of the room, well past tipsy and rapidly on her way to smashed, danced Jade, gyrating wildly in a manner that could only be described as 'embarrassing.' In one of the nooks formed by the wall and the staircase, John had an excellent view of Dave as he went to town on his mixing gear, throwing out some seriously biznasty beats. As if sensing his gaze the man looked up, spotted John at his perch on the staircase, and gave him a nod. John returned it with an extremely wide grin before taking another drink, forcing himself to ignore the taste and drain the glass. Ah, this was the college life! Now if only he could get a girl, maybe he could really have some fun.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

There was a moment of deafening silence as the room went from booming music to nothing. It was night outside and the curtains were all closed, so the darkness was virtually complete. A few playful shrieks rose through the room, breaking the silence for the giggles and laughter that followed. John straightened up and gripped the railing, suddenly afraid that he would lose his balance now that he couldn't see. “Oy, someone check the breakers!” a voice slurred, which just earned another round of titters. A few cellphones flashed in the darkness.

All of a sudden, John realized that he was not alone on the staircase. There was a presence beside him, the soft gust of someone else's breath against his cheek. Before he could reach out to make sure, a pair of arms wrapped around his body, a hand gripped the back of his neck, and a pair of lips pressed against his own.

_What?!_

The mystery person's arms tightened, pressing their bodies together firmly. John's forearms were pinned against his sides, not that he had the wits about him to resist anyway. In fact, he was so surprised that he opened his mouth, which only allowed his amorous captor to slip their tongue inside.

John had no idea who was kissing him. But he knew one thing; it was definitely a man. The arms wrapped around him and the body pressing against his were muscular and firm, lacking any kind of feminine curves. Only his shock prevented John from recoiling away in horrified embarrassment. At first, anyway. Thirty seconds later, his shock had had plenty of time to fade and give him back his ability to resist. Except... he wasn't. Because he couldn't.

Whoever this man was, he was more than just a good kisser. He was a _desperate_ kisser. Choked whimpers and moans were escaping his throat as he plunged the depths of John's mouth, the hand at his neck stroking the skin and gripping his hair like he couldn't get enough. A gentle pull forced John's head back as the other hand slid down to his waist, forcing him to lean backwards slightly over the railing. John could feel the anguished desire radiating off his attacker in waves as he was kissed like the world was ending. The person's skin was burning hot, leaving electric tingles everywhere he touched. His lips sawed at John's own, his head turning from side to side as he tried every angle, his tongue stroking John's oversized goober teeth and rubbing against the tongue that properly belonged in that mouth. Another whimper, almost a sob, could be heard as the unseen figure nibbled and sucked on his lower lip.

John was positively shaking. His knees were actually about to give out on him, and only the kisser's support was keeping him standing. He was... overwhelmed. He'd  _never_ felt a kiss like this, _ever_. He had no idea that so much emotion could be conveyed through such a simple act. Whoever this person was, they wanted him like no one had ever wanted him before, and they were at their wits end. This was likely their first, last, and only attempt to soothe the misery of their one-sided affection.

And it was breaking John's heart.

He was lowered carefully to the steps, his face gripped by two gentle hands for one last, tender kiss. And then he was gone, and John was alone on the stairs in the dark. The lights flickered back on to a whoop of drunken cheers, and Dave busted out some sick fires in celebration. Still John sat, sprawled back against the side of the railing, flushed and breathing hard.

Eventually, Jade noticed him and gyrated across the dance floor until she could join him on the steps. “You okay?” she asked, once she remembered how to form words. “You don't look so good.”

John's glazed eyes shifted over to her and finally focused. “I want to leave,” he whined softly. Jade stared at him in sympathy and helped him stand, which was kind of silly because she was  _way_ more drunk than he was. They said their farewells to Rose and Dave, who weren't interested in leaving yet, and wobbled their way back to their dorm rooms.

John collapsed in his bed without changing and slipped into a tormented slumber.

* * *

When morning came, John trudged to the mini-fridge and gulped down a bottle of water, trying to reduce the pounding in his head. Feeling sticky with beer and sweat, he next shuffled to the bathroom and stripped out of his filthy clothes, shivering a bit as he stepped onto the cold floor of the shower. Cranking the faucet to hot, he let the steaming water pour over his head and back, washing away the grogginess and finally waking him up.

The memory of last night suddenly came rushing back.

Gasping, John leaned hard against the wall with an outstretched hand, the other covering his mouth. Oh, gog. Did that really happen? It seemed surreal now, yet his lips could still remember the feeling of moisture, pressure and movement. Running his tongue across his teeth brought a spasm of arousal straight to his groin. John shuddered, the memory of strong arms wrapped around him exacerbating the problem, and the heat and steam from the shower was not enough of an excuse to explain the fire that was filling his veins.

_Nonononono, don't do this, don't do this..._

He shifted his weight, trailing his hand down the wall with every intention of adjusting the temperature to cold. Really, that was what he meant to do! But as if it had a mind of his own, the appendage left the wall and trailed down his stomach instead, coming to an inevitable stop between his legs.

_Don't, don't, don't, that was a_ guy _, just let it go, forget about it..._

The hand over his mouth shifted, fingers trailing over his lips. Suddenly, John could feel himself rising to the occasion, all sense lost. Water trailed in rivulets down his body, an extra caress to help stimulate his memories, amongst other things. John found himself slipping his fingers in and out of his mouth, rapidly becoming undone by the sensation as he trailed them over his teeth and traced them over his lips. He made a soft noise, and suddenly remembered the muffled, throaty moans that the kisser had made. Shuddering in response, John slipped slowly to his knees, stroking himself with legs spread wide and head thrown back, unable to open his eyes thanks to the stream of water in his face. He began to whimper softly to himself, trying to emulate the desperation he remembered in that man's voice, in his touch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh gog, fuck!” he cursed, pumping himself frantically. His imagination began running away with him, picturing those burning, insistent lips trailing down his neck to bite and lick at his collarbone. He tried to distance himself from the hand at his groin, wishing with all his might that it wasn't his own. John knew that if his secret admirer had tried to grope him last night he would have _freaked the fuck out_ , but now, safe in his own fantasy, he wanted to know what it would have felt like. Hands so insistent, so full of desire... gripping his balls and thumbing the tip of his shaft, stroking the sensitive sides and rubbing up and down over the tightened skin...

Like a roaring fire, John felt the pleasure creep over his body until he was overcome, muscles spasming as his release tore out out of him in glorious, quivering bursts. The hot water washed all the slimy substance away, along with the haze that had stolen his senses.

It couldn't wash away the memories, though. Not from last night, nor from just now. The lingering sensation of lips ghosting over his own refused to fade, and the weakness of his muscles post-orgasm only cemented home exactly what kind of effect those memories were having on him.

He felt like a strange new obsession had tied him spread-eagled to a bed and was having its wicked way with him.

* * *

“Are you alright, John? You've been out of it for days,” Rose commented as she took a seat across from him in the dining hall. The young man in question stared blankly at her salad for a few moments before he blinked and looked up.

“Isn't this the first time we've run into each other in days? How would you even know?”

Rose gave him an amused smile. “Obviously you're not  _that_ out of it, then. Dave's the one that told me to lend you my ears, as you're apparently 'moping around the room like Nic Cage had died.' You do seem a little distracted, though. Anything wrong?”

John shifted in his seat, poking forlornly at his pile of rubbery lasagna. “Say,” he finally said after a moment. “That party we went to over the weekend. Did they ever find out why the power went out?”

Rose blinked. “Funny you should ask. Everyone assumed it was an overload, but the guy who turned the power back on reported that there was a strange home-brewed device attached to the breaker box. A remote operated gear that wound up a string that must have been tied around the switch. Someone apparently set it up as a prank.”

John stared at her, an odd expression on his face. “Oh,” he finally said.

“May I inquire as to what this has to do with your problem?”

“Someone kissed me when the lights went out.”

Rose stared back, arching a brow. “Congratulations?”

“It was a man.”

Both eyebrows went up. “Oh,” she said, a perfect mirror to his previous utterance. She reached a hand out and placed it comfortingly over his own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

John pondered that for a moment. “Yes,” he finally decided.

“How do you feel?”

“...confused. And worried.”

“Why? I assure you, your heterosexuality can't be compromised by receiving a kiss you didn't ask for.”

“What if I liked it?”

Her hand twitched, but she did a noble job of keeping her professional countenance. “Then he was simply a good kisser.”

“Was he _ever_ ,” John muttered, turning red. “Ever since then, it's all I can think about. I can't get the memory out of my head. He was just _so passionate_...”

Rose was beginning to turn a little red herself. “Then you have even less to worry about. It's not his gender that drives you to distraction, but his emotions.”

“It's not my orientation I'm worried about, Rose,” John clarified. “It's the fact that I'll probably never meet this person again. There was a definite feeling of finality about that kiss, like he was never going to approach me again. I have no idea who he was, and no way to contact him. And I want to. Oh _gog_ , do I want to...” he whispered, unaware of how breathy his voice had become.

Rose was shifting oddly in her seat. Her hand felt curiously warm on top of his. “Perhaps he'll show up at another party.”

“But how will I know, if he doesn't approach me?”

“Maybe we can lure him out,” Rose said with unusual eagerness. “Perhaps if an identical opportunity presents itself, he'll try again!”

John stared at her doubtfully, but didn't disagree.

* * *

Another weekend, another midnight party. John huddled in an out-of-the-way corner, watching the drunken masses with bloodshot eyes. He didn't feel like dancing, and he didn't share everyone else's uncaring joy. He was anxious, his despairing worry mixed with thrilling hope, his heart in his throat.  _Please, please be here, mystery kisser!_

The music was loud but boring, as Dave had declined to mix for anyone this weekend. He was there in the crowd somewhere, surrounded by a gaggle of drunken college girls who were all too eager to rub up against him. Normally John was ridiculously jealous when that happened, but tonight he didn't particularly care. There was only one person he wanted rubbing against him; a figure of shadows and mystery and desire.

Someone turned the stereo down, which easily gained them the attention of all. “In honor of last week's screw-up with the power,” the woman announced, to a round of inebriated laughter, “it has been suggested that we hold a little game! For the next minute we're going to turn aaaaaaaall the lights out out. Everyone is encouraged to make out with whoever they want in the darkness!” She waited a few moments for everyone to laugh and groan about it, and John found himself scanning the crowd, trying to see if anyone was looking his way. The girl held up her hand, glancing over the sea of heads to another person who was waiting by the light switches. “Better spot your targets now, cause heeeeeeeere weeeeeeee goooooooo!”

The room was plunged into darkness. Squeals and giggles echoed through the room, while a few other people jokingly shouted out “Marco,” which of course earned them a multitude of replies for “Polo!” John held his breath, staring with wide, unseeing eyes around him.

Maybe this wouldn't work. The kisser was unprepared this time and might not know where he was, much less be able get to him through the crowd of bodies. He might not want to risk it, since John would obviously expect it this time and be able to fight him off. Or maybe he just didn't want him anymore. Or he might not even be here. A hundred doubts danced in John's head as the seconds ticked past and no one approached him.

And then there it was; the presence of someone beside him. A hand located his arm and trailed up it to locate his head, pulling him in for a kiss. A passionate, desperate, eager kiss. With a sob of relief, John wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders in front of him and pulled the body close, kissing hungrily back.

For a moment the man froze, obviously not expecting his attentions to be returned, much less with such fervor. With a shuddering whimper, he clutched John even tighter, arms and hands roaming up and down his back and running through his hair. As they devoured each other's lips, John felt the electric charge of arousal turn up the heat, and he ground against the other man's hips. The kisser moaned deep in his throat, rubbing back and plundering John's mouth with his tongue.

It was like a rushing tide that was carrying John away. He unclenched his hands from the man's shirt and ran them up to his face, searching for clues. Whoever it was had a sleek, angular face and soft, spiky hair. John's fingers located some kind of metal band, which further inspection revealed to be a pair of glasses perched on top of the mystery man's head. His heart pounded in his chest. He had to know. He was desperately aroused, frotting right through his clothes with another man, kissing him like he wanted to eat him up, and he  _had to know!_

“Time's almost up, everyone!” the voice from before called out, jarring the silence that had befell the room once laughter faded into muffled moans. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

As she continued counting down, John's partner disentangled himself and began to pull away. John latched onto his arm, seizing him in panic. “Don't go!” he choked, struggling to maintain his hold as the shadowy figure tried to shake him off. “Please, _please_ , don't go! Stay with me!” he whispered in desperation. The man hesitated, and John took the opportunity to pull him back toward the wall, pinning him against it with his body. 

“Don't go,” he whispered one last time, breathing softly against his lips.

“Three!”

“Two!”

The figure trembled against him, as if frightened to be revealed.

“One! Lights oooooooon!” The room was flooded with a bright white, for a moment rendering John just as unable to see as he had been in the darkness. Then his eyes adjusted, and he looked upon the face of the man who had driven him to distraction.

For a moment, he couldn't recognize him. He wore an expression he'd never seen on that face before, a mix of vulnerability and apprehension that shone plainly out from the beautiful red eyes he had rarely ever seen. But the dark shades that were sitting on top of his pale blond hair were unmistakable, and  _very_ familiar.

It was Dave. His roommate and oldest, bestest friend. Dave, the most popular guy around, who always played it cool and oozed confidence from every pore. Dave, who every woman longed to go home with and every man longed to exchange a fist-bunp with. Staring at him with wide, almost fearful eyes.

“Dave?” John asked with disbelief. The man in question flinched, actually _flinched_ , and licked his reddened, kiss swollen lips. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dave finally looked to the side, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

This was... unbelievable. How—when—for how long—what? His mind reeled.  _Dave?!_ All that lonely, desperate passion came from  _him?_ Why? He could have anyone! This was more than he could comprehend. His best friend... wanted _him_ , that badly?

This was...

This was...

Oh my _gog_.

John turned Dave's face back toward him and dived into another kiss, breathing in labored gasps as Dave returned it with equal wonder and hunger. This was more than either of them had ever dared to dream, or dreamed of daring. Arms wrapped around each other and hands dug into muscular flesh, roaming over each other's shoulders and into each other's hair. Heads tilted almost perpendicular as they pressed their lips together as hard as they could, bodies flush from head to toe.

There were a few catcalls, which they firmly ignored, but the bright flash of a camera finally got their attention. Breaking apart at the lips only, they turned to stare with wide eyes at their photographer.

“Damn flash,” Rose cursed, lowering her camera with a sigh. Beside her, Jade fanned herself, quite red in the face. A dozen other sets of eyes watched them avidly, with expressions ranging from amusement, shock, lustful drooling, to heartbreak. John turned bright red and buried his face in the crook of Dave's neck.

The coolguy lowered his shades back in place and peeled himself from the wall, maneuvering the both of them through the crowd. Jeers and applause followed them until they had safely escaped through the front door. Slamming it shut, Dave leaned back against it and stared at his best friend with rosy cheeks.

“So. Um. To our room?”

“Gog, yes,” John breathed with a nervous, elated laugh.

Dave grinned, and the sight of it made John's heart stutter in his chest.

They proceeded to set a new record for speed in crossing the campus, running hand in hand and laughing for joy the whole way.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this [amazing fanart comic](http://freya-who.tumblr.com/post/20445718146) by Freya!


End file.
